Perfect
by ReadingWitch367
Summary: Perfect; adj -To be Flawless. Alice isn't perfect and she's tired of pretending. She needs to escape before her mind does. But her mind wanders far too much. She'll never make it. But she will try. Rated T language. Virtual cookie 2 readers! R@R please!


Blowing Bubbles...always a fun time...it lets you think. No seriously. I want you to try it. Sit on a patch of grass on your favorite blanket, bring your stereo and fave cd and just watch the soap fly up into the sky. It lets you think, lets you relax and just watch the bubbles...so free..lets you just... currently thinking about where the bubbles fly to...where do they go when they shine so high you cant see them and they become tiny mirrors reflecting the setting sun. I dip my wand in more bubble soap and blow another one, it only goes about 5 feet before landing on a sunflower and popping. I tilt my head and watch the sunflower sway, theres something weird about this flower...umm...ah.. There is a butterfly in it. The wings stand in blue and pink against the golden glow of the petals. It's wings must have gotten wet when I blew my bubble. I crawl over to the flower and let the insect crawl onto my pointer finger.

"I'm sorry pretty butterfly," I whisper as soft as I dare."i didnt mean to hurt you. Im just bored. I like blowing bubbles. Have you tried it? I bet you've flown with the bubbles before. Have you? Is it beautiful where you live?" I think for a moment. " sorry again pretty butterfly. Goodbye." and with that I cup my hands and give a soft little blow, the butterfly flies out of my hands and I watch it go with a slight wonder in my eyes.

I must have stayed like that for an hour, with my hands behind me, watching the sky as the butterfly flew away. But I can't stay in Wonderland for ever. I shouldve known.

"AAAALLLICE!" I hear my mother yell.

I guess that's my cue to return to reality. I fold my blanket and press the stop button on my Lavigne CD right as "Alice" begins to play. Hmm... I press play again and listen. I sway to the melody...

_"AAAAALLLLLLIIIIICCCEEEE!" _I definently have a few responses but most of them would get me sent to my room.. I want to finish watching the sun set but I know if I don't go now my mother will get my father to come find me. He doesn't like when I blow the bubbles and watch the Flutters. That's what I like to call them. I have called them that since I was young and I refuse to quit. I think the Flutters can hear me. They always hide whenever I can get away from my home and come outside to play. We always play hide and seek and I am always the seeker. They never leave me unless I ask them to. That's what I did to the Blue and Pink butterfly...I simply blow on them and they fly away.

Father thinks I'm crazy and I should stay inside with mother to wash dishes and learn about depressing things like the Holocaust and Global warming and how we're all going to die.

I think Father should go read the book i've written (aka My Diary) and see what I think of him when he says those things.

Mother thinks I should listen to Father if I don't want to be punished and if I would like to keep visiting the Flutters I should Mind my mouth and listen.

I think I should listen to mother because I worry about her, so frail. I don't like to worry mother. But father makes me feel like a fire breathing dragon with steam coming out of my ears.

My big sister Anne also thinks that my mouth will get me into trouble but she never tells me that.

I think my big sister Anne is amazing and deserves more then harvesting crops every Fall on this dingy little Farm. No matter how humble it is she deserves Harvard.

But no cares what I think.

You know how I know?

They never ask.

So I talk to my flutters and the flowers, they are excellent listeners. I babble to them as I continue packing all of my things into my wicker basket with the moon patterns. As soon as I am done I start dancing my way back to mother, step, skip, twirl. I pretend I am a princess, dancing with my prince at a royal ball in the sunset. I am carrying a purse made of only the finest materials in...France. Im an Indian princess with a French bag and a Irish prince. Not a Farm girl with a sundress carying a wicker basket off to her farm house.

A girl can dream right?

As long as that girl keeps the dreams to herself.

Right?

**A/N: Do you like it? I know you may hate petty chapters but I didnt want the beggining to run on and on. Please review! Does Alice seem too crazy to you? Do you like it? Do you see the little words at the bottom? It says..review this chapter. Click it and you get a free cookie! Thanks!**


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